


An Old Friend

by buckles



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:53:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckles/pseuds/buckles





	An Old Friend

It's over. It's finally over.

Cait looks up at the sky and feels the breeze gently touch her neck. She flinches slightly, and then remembers. _It's okay._ It's dawn just before the sun comes up. She should feel better about this. She should feel relieved and liberated. It's over.

Cait finds herself grinding her teeth, turning over the last handful of caps in her pocket. _Should be enough,_ she thinks. It doesn't have to be the latest and greatest. It just has to do the job.

Cait looks towards the horizon, spotting the nascent sliver of sun peek over, lighting the sky on fire. She turns, nodding up to the road. It's a long walk, but she knows the way. Hate and anger kept her alive those last five years. It kept her going. 

And now hate will keep her company. 

*

Twenty miles on past the slaver camp, Cait spots a caravan, the laden Brahmin's cowbell clinking erratically in the chilly morning.

"Don't want no trouble." the woman says. 

Cait says nothing. The trader is wearing ragged clothes, pockets hidden inside the outfit and out, hood wrapped tightly around her head. Barely protective, but warm enough.

"What you got there?" Cait asks; the question spat like a statement.

"Many things. Many things." the woman stammers, unnerved.

Cait picks out a dose of Psycho. Baseball bat. Double-barrel shotgun. _It just has to do the job,_ she thinks. 

And two shells.

The woman nods.

*

Fifty miles past and Cait knows it's getting close. She feels the blood in her veins ebb. _Oh no. No no no,_ Cait tells herself, silently.

She tries to stir the hate again. Tries to remember the worst of the last five years of her life. "Fuck!" she shouts, involuntarily, the memory hitting her like a freight train.

Cait's hands shake. She breaks open the shotgun and loads the shells.

_One for Pa. And one for Mam._

With the shotgun loaded, it doesn't feel any better. _Christ,_ Cait thinks. _Get the fuck on with it._

It's not working. Cait slams a fist against her head. Cait remembers: the dingy shed outside, Pa kicking her awake after she slept too long to make his breakfast. 

Cait remembers the time Ma broke her leg with a sledgehammer after she tried to run away from the trailer park. 

Home. 

Cait's never killed anyone before. Tears stream down her face. And in the instant she catches herself crying, she angrily jabs the Psycho into her chest and depresses the plunger.

Her vision sharpens. The noise goes away; the crying stops. Her old friend is back. Everything is clear now. Everything is simple. There's no pain any more. There's no weight pressing down on her shoulders. There's nothing to be afraid of any more. It's simple. So simple. _One for Pa. And one for Mam._

*

Cait stands on the top step, the trailer behind her. Still on a high. Two bloody corpses sitting together on the decaying couch.

She looks at the morning sun, glowing, warm and radiant. She sees the tattered shadows and silhouette of Boston, off in the distance.

 _Boston,_ Cait thinks to herself, nodding.

The first step down, the Psycho wears off, and there's a hollow feeling where there wasn't before. It's small; easily ignored. 

_Boston._

And with each step Cait takes towards the city, the feeling grows. Hollow and cold and dark. Cait rubs her bare arms, trying to warm herself up. 

But it's not working.

Cait walks on towards Boston, looking down at the ground a little. Watching her steps. Cait idly wonders if there's someone following. She daren't look back. She can't look back. But there's no one. 

Cait walks on towards Boston a little faster.


End file.
